The Guest Cottage by Nancy Thayer Page B

his wailing son. “Anne found Tubee, Leo. He was in the pillowcase with their laundry. He was tucked away in a nice, soft place. Anne is going to package him up and mail him back overnight express mail. He will be here tomorrow. For sure.”
    At these words, Leo’s rage gradually subsided. His sobs diminished to whimpers. Trevor gathered his son in his arms and sat on the floor, hugging the boy against him, rocking him.
    “Want Tubee.” Leo cried, his bony body shuddering with exhaustion.
    “Tubee went on a quick trip with our friends. He’ll be back tomorrow.”
    Sophie tiptoed into the room, set the two glasses of ice water on the floor within reach of Trevor’s hand, and quietly left.
    Trevor took a sip of the cold water and was surprised at how it revived him—he could almost feel the clear energy spread through his system, calming him. Holding Leo’s glass, he coaxed his son to take a sip, and then another. The hot flush of Leo’s skin slowly faded. The boy’s breathing slowed. He relaxed against Trevor.
    Trevor rocked Leo in his arms, humming softly until the child’s trembling eased and his eyes closed. He laid Leo in his bed. He removed his son’s sandals and smoothed his hair, pulled a sheet over him, then simply stood watching for a while. Leo folded into a fetal position and sank into a deep sleep.
    Downstairs, Lacey was in the family room watching television. Sophie was sitting on the back patio with a book in her lap, her head resting against the pillow of the lounge chair.
    Trevor went outside to sit on the chair next to her. “Well, that was awful.”
    “I’ve seen worse when a child didn’t get the candy he wanted in a grocery store,” said Sophie comfortingly. “But, yes, it was awful, for you and for Leo. And yet, possibly not the worst thing that could happen. I was telling Lacey how sometimes it helps to have a good tantrum. Often the immediate problem isn’t the real cause.”
    “Catharsis. Yeah, I know.” Trevor stretched out on his lounge chair and closed his eyes. “I feel like my heart has been squeezed so hard it’s as limp as a rag.”
    “Kids will do that to you,” Sophie said. “I don’t want to interfere, Trevor, but you
have
talked with Leo about death and about losing people, right?”
    “Of course I have. And I talk to Leo about his mother every day. You’ve heard me.” Trevor rubbed his forehead, remembering the advice of other parents and the therapists he had visited. “I really don’t want to put Leo on medication.”
    “I think you’re right. Although, there have been times in my life when I’ve wished I could share a nice slug of vodka with my kids to ease their pain over a crisis like Leo’s. I’d never do it, of course. I suppose growing up is partly about learning how to handle loss.”
    Trevor barked a low laugh. “Some of us never learn how to handle that.” Glancing over at Sophie, he remarked, “You and your kids don’t seem to be freaking out over this separation from your husband.”
    Sophie shifted in her chair, turning her body toward Trevor. “Well, the kids don’t know why we’re apart this summer. Plus, we’re used to being without him. He’s always working. He’s never cared much for the whole soccer/ ballet recital/family camping trip kind of thing. He loves his children—” Sophie stopped talking and chewed on a fingernail. After a moment, she continued, “He
does
love his children, but now that I think about it, he has never gone through with either one of them what you just went through with Leo. I’m afraid Zack would find it all far too unpleasant. Not to mention unprofitable.”
    “Not to be rude, but he sounds like a jackass.”
    “I think he is. Believe me, I’ve given our situation a lot of thought in the past few weeks. Sometimes I wonder what we ever saw in each other that made us wild enough about each other to marry. Even when I look at the early photographs, I can’t recall a feeling of ecstasy. He was